Frank could draw nothing further from his friend save constant repetitions of this charge to him to wait a fortnight,—just one other fortnight.
'Well, I will come to you at any rate,' said Frank; 'and, if possible, I will bring my father. But I shall write to Mary to-night.'
On the Saturday morning, Mary, who was then nearly brokenhearted at her lover's silence, received this short note:—
'My own Mary,
'I shall be home to-morrow. I will by no means release you from your promise. Of course you will perceive that I only got your letter to-day.
'P.S. You will have to call me so hundreds and hundreds of times yet.'
Short as it was, this sufficed to Mary. It is one thing for a young lady to make prudent, heart-breaking suggestions, but quite another to have them accepted. She did call him dearest Frank, even on that one day, almost as often as he had desired her.
CHAPTER XLVI.
OUR PET FOX FINDS A TAIL.
Frank returned home, and his immediate business was of course with his father, and with Mr. Gazebee, who was still at Greshamsbury.
'But who is the heir?' asked Mr. Gazebee, when Frank had explained that the death of Sir Louis rendered unnecessary any immediate legal steps.
'Upon my word I don't know,' said Frank.
'You saw Dr. Thorne,' said the squire. 'He must have known.'
'I never thought of asking him,' said Frank, naïvely.
Mr. Gazebee looked rather solemn. 'I wonder at that,' said he; 'for everything now depends on the hands the property will go into. Let me see; I think Sir Roger had a married sister. Was not that so, Mr. Gresham?' And then it occurred for the first time, both to the squire and to his son, that Mary Thorne was the eldest child of this sister. But it never occurred to either of them that Mary could be the baronet's heir.
Dr. Thorne came down for a couple of days before the fortnight
